


Fever Dreams and Hallucinations

by astrapoetica



Series: Fever Dreams and Hallucinations [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrapoetica/pseuds/astrapoetica
Summary: A really short drabble from Steve's POV. Part 1 in the Fever Dreams and Hallucinations series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this bit is so incredibly short. I've written and re-written a beginning for a continuation about twelve thousand times, but it always stalls out. Honestly I think the next piece is coming from Bucky's POV and we're headed into polyamory town so for that I humbly apologize. (Also, I wish I knew more about the KGB ugh).

Natasha throws her head back, laughing. Her hair is the shortest it's ever been, tight cute red curls framing her face. He's on top of her, his face buried in her neck, blowing raspberries along her skin and tickling her sides with his hands. They're both wonderfully, gloriously naked, and his cock is achingly hard against her stomach. He wants to bury himself in her, but he's having so much fun making her laugh. It's been a long, lazy afternoon, the kind they never have together. The rest of the new recruits to the Avengers are off on training exercises - a convenient excuse to get rid of them. 

It's a risky move, but it's definitely paid off, or at least Steve thinks so.

They slept in late, then used Stark's hyped up kitchen technology to make pancakes. They ate them in Natasha's room, sitting on her couch together. Steve wouldn't stop pushing at her with his feet, and eventually they abandoned them in favor of sticky kisses and groping each other through their clothes. Natasha clambered on top of him, teasing him with syrupy sweet lips and her roaming hands.

When she ran her hands through his hair, some of the syrup clung to him, and he protested, trying to shove her off him. That was when the tickle fight had broken out. 

He picked her up, carried her off to the bedroom, and stripped himself down as she did the same. They rolled all over the bed together, play fighting with each other. For some reason Steve couldn't seem to stop tickling her long enough to get down to any actual sex. Steve knows they should get on with it. They're running out of time, the other Avengers will be home by 5, or possibly before then if they decide to pack it in early.

But he wants to stay here forever with her, bright sunlight arcing in through the windows. Her eyes are lit with it and they are so much more green than he ever realized, bitten through with flecks of gold. He just wants to stave off the moment they have to part, go back to their own separate rooms, when he has to lay in his own cold bed and fall asleep without her. With a groan, he gives in to the inevitable and sinks himself inside of her, and it's so unbearably good, this feeling, and he just wants to stay, stay...

~  


Steve jerks awake in the dead of night in his small room in the Wakandan embassy. Sweat stains his sheet and his cock is stiff almost to the point of pain. He can't help but reach down and grip it firmly, trying to will his erection away. When it becomes immediately apparent that that's not going to happen, he groans with frustration. Throwing his sheets aside, he makes his way into the bathroom. The lights are bright and harsh but there's a dimmer setting. He scrambles to put it on, relieved when the lights go down to a level that assaults his senses just a tiny bit less. 

He steps into the shower before it's even truly hot, shuddering at the cold. He leans his hands against the sides of the shower and looks down his stomach at his penis, which is still standing stubbornly at full mast. "You have got be kidding me." 

Hadn't his day been bad enough? Standing there while the techs put Bucky into cryo sleep, listening to him justify why he needed to go away again? And then that dream about Natasha, the one golden day they had shared together.

"Fuck."

He shuts his eyes tight as the water warms up finally, his back muscles protesting as the water works on the knots in his back. He's still bruised in places from his battle with Stark. Even super soldiers need time to heal. 

He reaches his hand down, gripping the length of himself tightly. A moan escapes his lips and he finds himself lost in his memories again as he slowly pumps himself up and down. Fuck he misses Natasha. And not just for the sex either. He misses her insights into difficult situations, he misses her laughter, the way the sunlight glints on her hair, the smell of her...

His hand moves faster now, making a twisting motion on the ridge and head as he rides it down. He needs more, faster, now.

Natasha is in the wind now though, just like him, and it's unlikely that he'll get to see her again anytime soon. If she's gone to ground, she'll be at least as hard to find as Bucky was. Or maybe even more difficult given her skills and experience operating independently in the modern world. And he can't really blow up the UN and frame her to flush her out either. He can't believe that she betrayed Stark for him and Bucky. She's put herself in a lot of danger, and she did it even after what he did to her. He treated her like it was just sex between them and nothing more and then left her flat and cold. What kind of man is he anyway?    
  
Or maybe it wasn't about him, maybe she just didn't believe in the Accords and she was standing up for what she believed in. A tiny sliver of hope in his mind insists that it wasn't a purely political move though. The way she had looked at him...

"Fuck." 

He can feel his balls drawing up close to his body now, his whole body tensing in preparation. He really hopes Sam can't somehow hear the obscene noises he's making, because he's in the room right next door and the walls seem paper thin. He fucks himself up into his hand, wishing Natasha was here right now. He thinks of her pretty lips, the way she used to tease him before sucking him down, and he's lost, a wave of pleasure exploding inside of him. 

White spurts of cum jet out of him, painting the tile before washing themselves away. Hot steam clouds the room, and Steve's breathing is harsh and ragged. He steps back more fully under the spray, rinsing himself before stepping out and toweling off. 

The steam escapes the bathroom when he walks back out into the darkened bedroom. The bed is rumpled from his sweat and tossing and turning. He gives up on sleep, flipping on the bedside light. He sits down at the small table in the room and starts to plot his next move.

Hopefully Sam is okay with California.

 

 


End file.
